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I'm not going to start this post with, “Happy Thanksgiving–turkeys and corn and pilgrims blah blah blah.” That would be far too predictable.

I'm also not going to talk about giving thanks, either, because you and I both know you're reading about that on every blog ever made today, and I certainly don't want to be the one responsible for you blowing your brains out during a family holiday.

Or ever, really.

<insert the voice of the most annoying female you know, preferably high-pitched and nasal-ey>

I'm, like, really, like, grateful for, like, Starbucks.

Shut it, Tinkerbell. Go watch a TED talk or something.

Anyway.

I *am* going to take the opportunity to go out on a limb here, however, and guess that since it *is* that time of year, you're probably thinking how I think when I go on a diet:

Eh! I'll just start tomorrow….since, you know, today is pretty much shot.

Eh! I'll just start in 2012…since, you know, this year is pretty much shot.

DON'T LIE TO ME!

YOU'VE THOUGHT IT!

NO SOUP FOR YOU!

(Don't worry. I can't make soup, anyway.)

It's weird how that works–diets, business, men, whatever. You always want what you can't have. (I'm especially guilty of this.) But the minute you can have it–and it's right at your finger tips–you stop caring so much.

But I'd like to remind you to do yourself a favor.

CARE.

If not about the men *wink*, your livelihood. Your dignity. Your pride. Your word to yourself.

In London when you're in The Tube, a very proper recording comes on, telling you to “mind the gap”–the space in between the platform and the train itself.

But today you can forget that pretentious British bitch. Today it's me telling you to mind the gap–a different gap. The dangerous place in between intention and success, where everything has the potential to go really wrong…or maybe really right.

Depending.

And when I say depending, what I really mean to say is…

Depending on you.

Watch the self-sabotage.

Act with fierce intention.

Sometimes, when we're thisclose to getting what we hoped for, we take our foot off the gas because…what if, once we arrive, everything we spent years hoping for…shatters our fragile expectations and turns out to be a big, aching disappointment? Then what do we do?

Unfortunately, I can't tell you the answer to that.

But I can tell you this.

Everything you've been fighting for is about to make its grand debut.

That breakthrough you've been waiting for? It's coming.

That client you've been needing? They're on their way. (Unless you've been hoping for David Hasselhoff in which case, you're probably screwed.)

You officially have 36 days left in this year.

That's 864 hours.

51,840 minutes.

3,110,400 seconds.

Many, many moments.

And one opportunity.

So, who are you going to be?

Not in a month from now. Not in 2012. But right here. Today. Now. In the present.

Are you gonna be the one that yells, “yee-haw, baby,” and rides that opportunity for all it's worth?

Or are you gonna be the one whose greatest claim to fame is that they once tried to start a business and live life on their own terms, but it didn't really pan out because life just kinda got in the way.

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Think critically about the things you do in your everyday life–does everything you do actually make sense, or do you do it just because that’s the way it’s always been done? I argue that it’s an unfortunate case of the latter.

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So often, we make choices based on “what feels right for us.” To most people, that sounds like sage advice. You’re “being true to yourself,” after all. What we don’t consider, however, are the limitations. If you’re constantly making decisions based on who you are in this very moment, you don’t leave any room for […]

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You don’t have to choose, you know. You can be intelligent…and sensual. Extroverted…and introverted. Complex…and simple. You…and someone who’s evolving into someone else. Sometimes, in an effort to finally define who the fuck we are, we start putting ourselves into the little boxes voluntarily—the same ones that we spent our earlier years trying to escape. […]

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I’m a pretty laid back gal. One time, Steve Patterson spit in my face in the 9th grade, and even then I wasn’t overly upset about it. (Come to think of it, what the hell?) But, like any human being, I have buttons. The most obvious is clearly when anyone mixes up “affect” and “effect,” […]

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I’m currently gnawing on a big, squishy, ripe red tomato. Right now. As I type this. I’m forking salty chunks into my mouth as I hope (but not pray–I’m pretty bad at that) that tomato seed juice doesn’t dribble all over my keyboard. Before my current lusty, red hot tomato affair, I was getting […]

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If I had a foghorn, do you know what I’d shout? (Besides how I’ll never understand why so many people think that God is actually a compelling justification for their particular policy preferences. /rant) What I’d really shout—what I truly believe our people desperately need to hear—is this and this alone: The well-being of our […]

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I watched the movie AWOL last night, and the truth is, it was just an average movie. But I was fascinated by it. I was fascinated by it because the movie is set in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania, where I grew up, and everything from the trailer to working at the ice cream stand was the spitting […]

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If you clicked on this post, you either: a) Need to get a grip. b) Want to reclaim your life. c) Have no time to do either. d) Googled “mating habits of porcupines” and this just came up. e) You read everything I write because you’re secretly plotting my demise. With the exception of letter […]

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So that happened this week. There’s a lot that could be said, and a lot I’ll refrain from saying, but I did want to send a courtesy note to say, first of all, that my new online business mentorship program is still moving forward—and starts tomorrow—and second, that holy moly, it’s about so much more […]

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I always wanted to be the woman with the white floppy hat. The one with the easy laugh, where time had not made her older, but all the more delightful. The one who carries a basket of strawberries wherever she goes, the one who frolics in fountains, the one who holds his gaze just a […]

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He sat in the far corner of the room–no clip board, no notepad, no smile. I couldn’t make out his face–the room was dark and the curtains were drawn. I waited for Al Pacino to bust down the door, cigar in hand. I was seated near the door, at a table, with a woman named […]

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